


Perils (and Benefits) of Over-Aged Trick or Treating

by Tobyaudax



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Halloween, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Trick or Treating, Tumblr Prompt, nothing happens i'm just tagging to cover bases, pre-relationship is super general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 19:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax
Summary: Prompt:you come up to my door in the middle of a sea of children, aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating??Zarbon just wants to get through another night of Trick or Treating, but some unexpected visitors make that difficult.





	Perils (and Benefits) of Over-Aged Trick or Treating

**Author's Note:**

> This was written three years ago and I think I re-discovered it over the summer. It still makes me laugh so it gets to be published.

It was a surprisingly warm night for October, especially after sundown. A cool breeze half-heartedly chased leaves across Zarbon’s otherwise immaculate front lawn and carried with it distant laughter and children’s voices. He sighed and checked his watch- 8:05, Trick-or-Treat was finally over. He’d been tempted to just turn his lights off and hide out for the two hours of nigh constant begging, but he had seen what happened to the houses that did that. Cleaning up wads of bathroom tissue and washing egg off his windows was not his idea of a fun Friday night or Saturday morning.

He was about to help himself to a very small piece of chocolate when someone cleared their throat, making him drop the unwrapped candy on the ground. _Fantastic_. Zarbon was scowling when he looked up, but the expression morphed into startled surprise when he saw the group waiting in front of his porch. To say that most of them were too old to be out was an understatement- three of the five were not only well over six feet tall but also clearly adults. Zarbon’s scowl saw a triumphant return.

The tallest one shouted, “Trick or Treat!” He was a veritable giant, standing at more than 255 centimeters and wearing an ill-fitting cowboy outfit. His words were chased by an almost visible cloud of alcohol. Well that explained it. The others echoed him at varying decibels and Zarbon swore one of them started to make a song of it before trailing off.

He arched a very skeptical brow and set the candy bowl aside to cross his arms over his chest. Twelve sets of eyes followed the chocolates before reluctantly wandering back to him. “Trick- Trick or Treat?” The massive redhead asked, his bottom lip quivering with the beginnings of a pout. He was dressed as a ballerina- pink tutu, tights, shoes and even a bow in his mop of hair. Zarbon regarded him as though he were the child he was pretending to be.

“Aren’t you lot a bit too old for this?” He intoned, barely keeping the scorn out of his voice. They all shook their heads at different times as he was speaking and the smallest among them- a four-eyed pirate who might actually have been a tired-looking child- started to say “Trick or Treat” again. Zarbon held up a hand, cutting him off. “Seriously- get off of my property and sober up. I’m not giving a gaggle of full-grown men free candy.”

“Here’s a child!” The pirate was hoisted aloft by a purple Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with horns on the sides of his head. “Give the child some candy!”

“No,” Zarbon replied. The pirate was promptly released and fell to the ground, cursing.

“Well you sure as hell shouldn’t eat it,” put in the second shortest, tastelessly dressed as a stereotypical Native American. “It’ll go straight t’yer already huge hips an’ arse- do yerself a favour an’ give it t’us!”

“Why you rotten little-” Zarbon started off the porch, hands outstretched to strangle the beast. He was intercepted by the enormous blue cowboy, who caught him by the wrists. Zarbon tugged at his hands, glaring up at the man and getting a sloppy, friendly smile in return.

“He didn’t mean that-”

“Sure I did-! Ouch, don’t _pinch_ me, R’coome!”

“He’s just had too much, he’s drank too much to drink,” the cowboy slurred, keeping the grin and massaging Zarbon’s hands as he stumbled over his words. “Your hips are fiiiiine and so’s your-” he leaned down, came dangerously close to falling, caught himself and then whispered loudly in Zarbon’s ear- “Butt. You gotta great butt. What’s your butt- what’s your name? I’m Butt. I mean, hah, I mean I’m Burter. What’s yours- what’s your name?”

It was probably the worst propositioning he’d ever heard, but Zarbon found himself smiling. It was just so stupid (they were all _incredibly_ stupid) but damnit if the cowboy didn’t have a little charm to him. Zarbon freed a hand to tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear, smiling coyly up at the other man.  
  
“I’m Zarbon. And you’re still not getting the candy.” He pulled back his other hand and moved to go inside, reaching for the bowl as he opened the front door. His hand passed through empty air and he glanced down to discover the bowl was gone.

He spun around, furious, but the entire group had disappeared. Zarbon gaped, looking up and down the street. He ran to the end of his sidewalk and even checked behind the house but all five of the drunken weirdos had simply vanished, candy in tow. He was more angry about the bowl- it was an antique, a gift from his boss and irreplaceable. Grumbling about how much he hated the holiday and everyone that celebrated it, he went inside and locked the door behind him. _Bunch of assholes_.

* * *

He woke early the following morning to a knock on the door, but didn’t get out of bed for several minutes- Zarbon never faced the world until he’d at least washed his face and brushed his hair. More than an hour later, he opened the front door to retrieve the Saturday morning paper and gasped in delighted surprise- the candy bowl had been returned! And it was intact; not a crack nor sign of repair could be found. Newspaper forgotten (and he hadn't even seen it out there), he brought the bowl into the kitchen to wash it. God only knew where it had been all night.

Setting it in the sink, he discovered a scrap of paper resting on the bottom. It had obviously been torn from a newspaper and he had no doubt that it was from his. He unfolded the note and snorted- a phone number with a cartoon cowboy hat doodled beside it greeting him, followed by “Call me. Butt.” in beautiful cursive. Maybe Hallowe’en wasn’t _so_ bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
